


That One Time Loki Got Drunk Out of His Mind (and You Came for the Ride)

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blink and You'll Miss It Extreme Kink, Bodily Fluids, Clones, Coerced Theft, Drinking Games, Drunk Driving, Drunk on the Beach, F/M, Humor, Karaoke, Lapdance, M/M, Multi, Rolling in the Snow, Sex Work, Street Racing, Weight Diversity, community: naughtylokiconfessions, too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Should you still be drinking?" You shouted over the throbbing music.</p>
<p>He leaned close, sloshing his beer over your PJ top. “In my youth, I could drink Thor under the table. Wanna see me do it again?”</p>
<p>"Thor isn’t here, Loki."</p>
<p>Loki shrugged. In a pause between songs, he shouted to the club, “Who thinks they can out drink a god?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Time Loki Got Drunk Out of His Mind (and You Came for the Ride)

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for this drabble:  
> <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2XdmyBtCRQ>  
> <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1MaPzfnfQQ>  
> <http://vimeo.com/23661399>  
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BP1PsqBmbvM>
> 
> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

The situation was not your fault. Okay, so if you hadn’t invited Loki to fix himself a drink and make himself at home, without adding appropriate caveats to that, this might not have happened.

Also if it weren’t for your friend with the basement still and very generous spirit. If not for her birthday gift to you, three unmarked gallons of 160-proof. If not your decision to go to the grocery shop for eggs, rice, and cheese. It was just three fucking items; you couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes. Thirty, tops.

It still wasn’t your fault.

When you got home, Loki was nowhere in the house. He rarely announced his coming and goings—something about not answering to mortals. So you weren’t concerned. Or not until you heard the high-pitched squealing from the backyard, anyway.

Oh fuck, was your first thought. The Avengers must have found your house: one of Loki’s hidden bolt-holes. They were injuring him. You raced for the door, tripping on a low table, frantic and cursing. You burst out, nearly slamming the door from its hinges.

No battle was in evidence. Just Loki, bare-ass naked in Jötunn form, raised psychedelic markings that seemed to change hue as he moved, rolling in the snow. He was tossing it up in great handfuls, catching flakes in his mouth. Making snow angels or what snow angels might look like if chained with Lucifer in the bowels of the Earth for a thousand years. Actually more like a giant, winding serpent with fins. When he caught sight of you, he flung a snowball which missed by a country mile.

"Come and play! Come and play, oh fair Lady!" He screamed, much louder than your distance warranted.

For probably a full minute, you stared open-mouthed. Loki never played. He frequently smirked and bitterly grinned, but rarely smiled. He was laughing, frolicking, playing. And squealing.

"Loki, are you"—‘are you ill’ seemed a bit rude—"happy about something?"

"I am happy about everything!" He shouted. "Have you ever seen snow so beautiful?"

You had.

"Loki, come inside."

"No."

You left him. Having changed clothes on getting home, you were now freezing out here in your pajamas. It wasn’t like he was going to get frostbite. You went to the kitchen to fix yourself a hot beverage. In the kitchen, scattered on the floor, were the three gallon jugs of hard spirits. Empty.

You had your phone out and the first numbers of emergency punched in before your brain caught up to you. Loki was an internationally wanted criminal. If he was taken to the hospital, he would be arrested. And he didn’t need it. He should be dead already from that much alcohol, but he was mobile and speaking intelligibly without a noticeable slur. So no ambulance. At least, not until he started showing danger signs.

You took a seat by the window to watch. You did not have to sit there long. With the classic distractibility of the drunken, he bounded back in the house.

"Dance with me!"

He reached for you and you leapt out of your chair.

"Don’t touch me," you hollered, panicked. "You will freeze me. Do you understand, Loki? Change back. Now!"

He pouted, but did as you asked. “Come with me! It is glorious night! We must go carousing and prove our worth as Æsir by many feats and contests.”

Neither of you being Æsir and Loki’s typical disdain for Thor’s brand of stupidity had escaped Loki’s notice. Also your state of dress. He grabbed your hand and both of you were standing in the middle of a crowded boulevard. Dozens of people in bathing suits, bikinis, tanks and shorts. You had no idea where he had taken you. Australia, maybe, judging from the burning sun and ninety degree heat.

"I’m hungry!" Loki threw an arm around you and drew you close. "Come and eat with me, you beautiful creature."

This was punctuated by a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. Gross, but also… Loki was beautiful like this, exuberant and uninhibited. You would probably never see this again. You weighed the options and made a snap decision. Okay. You were along for the ride, wherever it took you.

The two of you burst into the retro cafe arm in arm. A gleaming place of chrome-edged bar, checked floor, red-and-white striped booths, satin white walls. A jukebox blaring Mötley Crüe.

Loki flung his arms out. “Mortals! My friends! Will you give over your feasting hall to the rightful King of Asgard?”

The patrons and waiters were too shocked to do more than boggle. You boggled at how much a drunken Loki sounded like Thor. He produced a fistful of Asgardian coin and tossed them on the bartop. “Your finest meals! For all of us here. Let us have coffee in flagons, immediately!”

Then he spun to face you, changing clothes as he moved. In a sequined wifebeater, leather trench coat, denim jeans, leather chaps, and fingerless gloves, he was pure Loki. He tossed himself into the nearest booth and swung his legs onto the table.

A fat waitress, at least two hundred and fifty pounds in a fabulous black-and-white, polka-dot with striped skirt dress, with dyed blue hair and blue heels, approached your table. You recognized in her hesitant step and shy smile that she was a fellow Loki devotee. You smiled broadly at her.

"I’m Amelia. I’ll be your waitress today. Our best is the Super Lunch Special. Three pancakes, a BLT, two sausages, side of fries, and your choice of coleslaw or applesauce."

"I’ll have three and one for my companion," Loki ordered. "Serve everyone. Also coffee. Much coffee. In flagons and bowls. Rivers of coffee. Let our table run with this beverage."

Amelia blinked. “I’ll bring a carafe,” she promised.

Something nagged your brain about coffee and alcohol, but Loki downed half the carafe before you could make up your mind what to say. Within minutes, his eyes glazed out, his smile turned manic, and he started rubbing his hands erotically through his hair. The texture fascinated him and he stuck a few strands in his mouth. One leg remained on the table, the other had draped itself over the back of the booth.

When Amelia returned with the plates, Loki snagged her by the wrist. She didn’t resist and he pulled her forward between his legs.

"You are beautiful like a Valkyrie," he purred. He took a fry from his plate and bit half of it. He held up the other half to Amelia. She flushed, a little bit embarrassed and a lot turned on.

What a blessing, PJs with pockets. You pulled out your phone for the first picture of the day. Too bad you missed the frolick in the snow.

Loki finished his three enormous lunches before you were half through. All the while, he relentlessly flirted with Amelia, winking and blowing her kisses when she was out of reach, stroking her arms when she got close enough. She was teasing him, you noticed with amusement. Dancing almost close enough, then ducking out of reach.

"Come with us." He pulled her considerable girth into his lap and stroked a hand daringly down from her neck almost to… "Best night of your life. Promise."

She looked torn. “I can’t leave my job.”

"Fuck your job. I have paid enough"—he gestured to the coins on the bar—”to compensate your loss for a day."

"My boss might fire me anyway."

"Tell your boss I know where he lives." Loki licked his lips very slowly. "Best. Night. Come… ing?"

 

The club was packed wall to wall even in the late afternoon. People dancing on the mirrored dance floor to the flashing disco ball. People standing around near the bar on the aqua blue floor with curved metallic lines. People crowded on the green and blue couches in the back. Strippers performing with little enthusiasm on a glittering stage which connected by a series of steps to the blue velvet covered bar. The DJ booth beside the stage was, for the moment, empty.

Loki was flushed and swaying to the music. At the bar, Asgardian coin had procured them beers and whiskey shots.

"Should you still be drinking?" You shouted over the throbbing music.

He leaned close, sloshing his beer over your PJ top. “In my youth, I could drink Thor under the table. Wanna see me do it again?”

"Thor isn’t here, Loki."

Loki shrugged. In a pause between songs, he shouted to the club, “Who thinks they can out drink a god?”

A handful of people looked interested. In the dim light, without his signature armour, none of them seemed to recognize him. A guy sitting near him asked, “A god, huh? So what’s the prize?”

Loki didn’t miss a beat. He brought his hands to snap together over his head. Fucking hell, you thought. As did the twenty odd guys who instantly crowded around. Leather and lace, red lips, red fingertips. An actual leather corset. And how the fuck did she even balance in those heels? C-cup breasts in a shimmering green bra and a tone-matching thong finished it elegantly off.

She swung up on the bar and onto her back in one motion, hair flying, tossing both legs straight into the air. “Me. I’m the prize. Money on the counter, boys.”

In short order, twenty neat piles of bets were laid out and the first round was ordered. You bit your nails and shared a pained look with Amelia.

After the fourth round, three of the guys bowed out. After the seventh, ten more. By the fifteenth it was down to two: Loki and a sandy haired guy named Mike. They were both giggling wildly and hugging. At seventeen, the bartender refused to serve either of them another, so they called a draw. Loki refused to give up his virtue since Mike hadn’t actually won. So they compromised on split winnings and Loki resumed his previous attire.

They staggered to the couches. Loki took the center seat in the largest, climbing up to perch on the back. No longer able to hold himself upright, he slumped back against the wall.

The two beers you’d had caught up with your bladder; you had to excuse yourself. When you got back, Loki had gone from languorous drunken stupor to surrounded by the guys he’d been drinking with and covered in strippers. All looking much more enthusiastic than they had on the stage. He had one girl on either knee, one sitting on the back of the couch, his arm around Amelia, and two girls making out on the floor in front of him.

It wasn’t clear whether they were there because of the generous liberality of his pockets—the two girls on the floor were swapping a coin probably worth more than their week’s salary between their mouths, horrifically unhygienic, but also kind of hot—or because of his natural charisma—the same charm which had you offering him a home after five minutes on your doorstep. Probably both. You suddenly had an idea how this frigid, scornful man was legendarily more of womanizer than Thor, the fertility god.

He had an illusion of animals dancing to the music floating over his head, like a multi-colored laser show, without the lasers.

"Hey, sexy mother," he called to you.

You winced. “It’s hot mama. Also, don’t call me that.”

"As you bid, pretty sister. This is Penny." He gestured to the redhead on his right knee. "She’s got two cats, a hamster, and a little brother who never shuts up. This is Nia"—a gesture to the dark-skinned woman on the left—”she works a grocery store in sunlit hours and helps her uncle stay in recovery."

He was going to introduce you to everyone there? Yes, he was.

No way you would remember all those names. He tugged you on the opposite side to Amelia. With an unsteady hand, he pointed to a large-stomached woman grinding in the heat of the mosh on the floor. You guessed Brazillian by the hair and brown skin.

"She wants to be over here." Loki declared. "You wanna bet what color her underwear are?"

"Um," Amelia blushed. "Pink?"

"Nope. Black."

You shrugged. “I think white, probably. Why are we betting on this?”

Loki caught her eye. Pressed his arms together and made a two handed come-hither gesture. She immediately left the floor and made herself comfortable at Loki’s feet, the conceited fucker.

"Hey, sexy." He grinned shark-like. "Wanna party with us, babe?"

"Sure." She grinned. "I’m Maria."

"Maria." He shifted Nia and Penny in his arms to lean forward. "Pull up your dress for us, sweetheart."

She did so unhesitatingly. Her panties were neon green. Loki looked petulant.

"Are you a lesbian?" He asked, curling his tongue lavasiously out of his open mouth. You hid a snort in a cough.

She shook her head, lips pressed tight together. Loki grinned triumphantly. “No. But you are bisexual. Or pan?”

"Bi," she confirmed. "Amazing. They said you could never be taken by a lie, but I didn’t believe it."

A quick pained look flew over Loki’s face, but he chased it off with a playful smile. He gestured magnanimously to one of the kissing girls. “Would you like Sasha to finger you?”

Sasha held out a hand and Loki obligingly filled it with gold. She tucked her hand under Maria’s dress. Loki wasn’t even watching.

From behind Nia’s ear, he conjured a rose. Her eyes said, ‘not fooled,’ but she tucked it in her bra anyway. He whispered something in Penny’s ear that made her blush bright scarlet. She nodded.

An instrumental version of Ben’s Brother Kiss Me Again started playing on the radio. Loki took the stage in long, slinking steps and Penny followed him up. The lights moved slowly over the club. Loki’s voice carried without amplification sonorously into the far corners.

"It’s been, it’s been, it’s been, it’s been su-su-such a long time, long time, long time since anybody touched me." Head thrown back, hands palming down his body. He combed his hair, long sensuous strokes, and during the bridge he shed his coat in a seductive shrug. It was hellishly romantic.

When Penny knelt before him and he unzipped his pants, you braced yourself for an R-rated performance. What you got instead was so obscene that you couldn’t even watch. Penny left to get cleaned up; Loki hopped down and retook his seat with a self-satisfied smirk. The guys holding court around him looked shocked. And awed. A few looked disgusted and moved off.

In short order, the manager stormed out of the back, headed straight for Loki and his cabal.

"What the hell is this? Ladies, do you think I’m paying you all to sit on your asses? Back to the bar! You!" He pointed to Loki. "Out. Now."

Loki surged to his feet, genuinely furious. Much as you treated him like an adorable and obnoxious house pet, you never for a second forgot Loki’s other identity. The only question now was: slow death? Fast death? Burn the club to its foundations and murder everyone here?

None of the above. Loki thrust an unsteady hand in the manager’s face. “No. They are mine tonight and they do what they want. I’ll leave when I please. Go away, you— you— you flat-headed insect.”

The manager signalled the bouncers.

"Fine." Loki sighed dramatically. "You Midgardians with your endless obsessions with jobs and money. I’ll buy them for tonight."

"Yeah, right. You and every other drunk asshole who comes in here. Private parties aren’t cheap."

"How much?"

The figure the manager quoted was every bit as outrageous as Loki’s request. The manager was not impressed by Loki’s foreign currency. Loki pulled out a bank card which you had no idea he owned. The manager charged it; Loki signed and all thirty of you poured out of the club together.

Outside, it was deep dusk, still a balmy hot air that filled the lungs in damp waves with each breath. Everyone piled into cars, red taillights and hazy headlights glowing in contrast to the rich blue sky. A salty breeze blew up from the nearby ocean.

A couple of the guys had motorbikes, one of which Loki promptly took for himself. When he beckoned you to climb on, you got into one of the cars without a word. He wanted to kill himself? Fine. You wanted no part of it.

"Is he always like this?" Amelia asked, wide eyed.

"In a word? No."

As they took to the road, Loki revved his engine next to the black haired guy—Ryan?—pulling ahead and falling back until Ryan gunned his bike and they took off at a tear. At the first wine & spirits, Loki spun into the parking lot so fast that for a heartbeat, the bike spun out under him. At thirty degrees, it miraculously regained traction. He knocked down the kickstand and headed inside.

There wasn’t enough room in the lot for all the cars in Loki’s entourage. The remainder parked in the street, blocking traffic. Loki and Ryan came out burdened with bottles, which they piled into the nearest trunk.

This was repeated a half dozen times at every alcohol shop on the way to the beach. The last stop was to pick up a huge stack of firewood.

Mike had a 4x4 with subwoofers to make a DJ cry. He drove straight onto the beach from the ramp next to the nearby marina and cranked up the stereo to ear-shattering volume. A couple of dudes got started on the bonfire. Ryan and some of his buddies got busy with a volleyball net.

Ayo Technology started playing. Loki perched on the tailgate and crooked a finger at you.

"Dance for me," he demanded.

Your secret? You had always wanted this. In Loki’s hooded, intense stare, you suddenly saw, beneath the faded jeans and flaming biker top, the King of Asgard. Perched on a golden throne, trained dancers performing for him at state dinners. You couldn’t really recall much of Norse history, but you knew that kind of thing had been common in Egyptian and Roman culture. For a few minutes, you could leave your life on Midgard behind and live a fantasy in another Realm.

So you blocked your audience jitters and started grinding like you were alone in your bedroom with the curtains down. With every movement, you grew bolder, until you were crawling onto his lap, rubbing off on his thigh. The world faded out around you. It was just his jade eyes and the pounding dance rhythm. Using his shoulder as leverage, you launched to your feet and began pistoning your crotch over his face. He canted back, eagerly aiding you, and reached up to fondle your breasts.

The song ended to hollars and applause. You climbed down and were abashed at your own wantonness. Someone thrust a beer into your hand. You downed it quickly, trying to mask the embarrassment. Something by Maroon 5 came on and Nia took your place.

"I want inside your pants," she informed him huskily.

"Let me not deny you," he purred back.

In short order, she was dressed in his top and pants, while he wore her candy-striped red-and-white bra, thong, and camisole.

"That’s not what I wanted," she pouted.

"No, but it is what you asked for," Sasha teased. "Anyway, thanks to you the rest of us get a better view of the goods."

It was true. The thong and sheer camisole did absolutely nothing to hide what was going on downstairs. At least now you could be dead certain that Loki’s destruction sprees weren’t an attempt to compensate for anything.

The bonfire was getting a little strange as, in drunken ingenuity, the men were piling objects into it not typically of the campfire variety. A few lawn chairs. Somebody’s shoes. An old camp mattress.

Loki up stood and flung a full bottle of Tequila onto the blaze. It smashed. With a touch of magic to help, the flames roared twenty feet in the air, met with cheers of approval. Loki spread his arms in a grand gesture.

"I can fly!" He screamed. "Watch me fly."

"No you can’t!" You shouted back. "Loki, get the hell down from there. You are going to hurt yourself!"

"I am Loki of Asgard!" He shouted back. "I do what I want!"

"Nevermind the laws of gravity," you muttered. He jumped from the truck and for a heart-stopping moment you held your breath and waited for the accident.

He landed flawlessly on his feet and took off down the beach in an incredible display of capoeira. Maria, who had obviously seen this form of dance before, began clapping her hands to set a rhythm. Mike turned down the radio and everyone else joined Maria in clapping out the beat. Loki was drunk, you reminded yourself. This shouldn’t be possible. How much had he had in the last few hours? Why was he even still standing?

When he reached the water, he conjured a double and they started dancing in earnest to screams of approval. Then another double for a triad. Then a fourth and split off into pairs who kept switching partners. By now, in the spinning and flipping and kicking, you had no idea which one was really Loki.

Until he tripped, landing face first in the sand. The doubles knelt around him. They began stroking his back and legs in a way that was frankly pure erotica. Loki-in-the-sand flipped himself over and stretched out his limbs exhaustedly. One started sucking on his neck while another, absolutely identical, ran his hands under Loki’s camisole. It was either the hottest or the weirdest thing you’d ever seen.

"Look! Even the earth below stands itself up for me," he declared. "Isn’t this glorious? It does this for me. Because I am… of… I am… "

"Queen?" Penny suggested devilishly.

"Yes! I am the Queen of Asgard and even the ground obeys my command!"

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was not the ground which had re-orientated itself. You figured he wouldn’t understand you anyway.

Instead, you and the women you had been making friends with all night stood around admiring his nearly-naked supine body.

"You could cut stuff on his cheeks," Maria said.

"I wouldn’t mind doing shots off them," Amelia added wistfully.

You were just drunk enough to think this was an awesome idea. “Let’s do it. Loki, roll over, we need you. No. On your side. Yes, like that.”

Finding glasses took a bit of work, but one of the guys had them in his back seat. In the end they weren’t needed for long. The vodka quickly spilled out onto his face and Maria lapped it up. The next shot was poured directly into the hollows of his cheeks. The doubles moved obligingly out the way and vanished. Loki wound up with a bunch of women—and a few of the guys—licking Loki’s face while he lay in the sand, deliriously blissed out and moaning.

Not everybody restricted their tongues to his face. It was headed into a full blown six-on-one orgy when Loki rose up and declared a need to relieve himself. He effectuated this in the bonfire. A dozen of the guys followed his example. The darkness on their backs, the fire burning red on their chests… it resembled a primal ritual. Whichever part of your mind was bothered by this had gone on vacation. You just wanted to join in.

Amelia solved this. She dug out a pit with her hands and squatted over it. In an indication of the level of inebriation of the party, all the women lined up and used the same pit. For some reason, Loki found this hilarious.

It was closing on dawn, the sky gradually lightening in the east, when Loki pulled you away from the party.

"Come with me," he slurred, leaning heavily on you.

At this point, he truly could no longer walk straight. You had seen him down two fifths of whiskey just in the last hour. Plus the bottle of vodka and the case of beer earlier. And the seventeen shots and three or four beers at the club. Also the three gallons basement moonshine from your kitchen. He was flushed, staggering, nuzzling hotly at your ear, but he wasn’t dead.

"Where to?"

"That way." His attempt to point encompassed half the horizon. "On the pier… marina."

The marina hadn’t opened for the morning and was barred by a metal gate. Loki waved his hand vaguely at it a few times. When it failed to open, he grasped it with the arm which wasn’t clinging to you for life. In a rare display of brute strength, he ripped the gate from its hinges—and if that secretly made you super damp, that was exactly nobody’s business—and flung it in the water.

You walked out the length of the pier with him but didn’t grasp his intention until he stepped into one of the boats and collapsed on his back.

"Loki!" You hissed. "That’s not yours. Get out of there!"

"Don’t care."

"Come on. Someone’s gonna see us. Let’s go!" There were so many reasons this was a bad idea. You planted yourself on the pier and waited for Loki to get bored and climb out.

It was a cheap boat. Basically a tiny rowboat that someone had stuck a motor on. There was no key in the ignition, but the owner had hung a spare right below it. Loki grabbed it. After many, many attempts, he got it in and released the lock. He yanked on the recoil start. Too hard the first time and too gently the second, but it turned over on the third pull.

When Loki grabbed the tiller, you realized that he would simply leave without you. So, boat theft? Okay then. If it kept Loki from drowning himself in his own stupidity. You gave a frustrated groan and jumped in after him.

"Move, let me steer. You’ll wreck us before we get out of the marina."

The trip out was mostly silent. Loki had fallen to the outdoor carpeting lining the boat. He was running gentle hands up your legs and over your private area. You were tired and drunk and it felt really good. When Loki tugged at the hem of your PJs, you gave barely a token protest. He replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You cut the engine and took a few minutes to study the sky, in case you drifted out of sight of the shore. A folded tarp and a few cushions made a palatable bed. You pulled off your top and spread your legs in invitation. Loki settled between. Without the coordination to press up, he smushed most of his weight on your body. Not uncomfortable, just annoying.

He fumbled around for several minutes, all knees and elbows. You sighed and considered offering a hand. At last, Loki let out a high-pitched whine that turned into a growl at the end.

"I can’t." Loki sounded extremely distressed.

You looked down to confirm. Yep, soft as a baby’s bottom. “Unsurprising. That is a common side effect of being”—shit-faced off-your-ass—”drunk.”

"I mean, I can’t," he whispered.

"Yeah, got that first time."

"I really, really can’t. I just can’t." Shit, were those tears in his eyes? "I can’t satisfy them. I’ve tried. Oh gods, how I’ve tried. In the end, I am always alone."

Loki was now flat out sobbing. He was clinging to you, covering your breasts with snot. His hair was covering your face like a blanket. “Don’t leave me. I can’t be abandoned again. I won’t. It would kill me. These mortals are all I have left. Let me be your god. Please. Oh, please, please, please. I’ll be benevolent. I promise. Your every prayer… never want for anything. Please, don’t ever leave me!”

"Just love me," he whispered brokenly. "Just worship me."

He wrenched himself up with sudden violence and stumbled to the bow of the boat.

"Look at me!" He screamed to the waves. "Look at your son. You have damned me to this hell! You are no king; you are a beast on a throne. My children will kill you. Do you hear me? My children will kill you and drink your blood. They will dance with merriment on the day of your doom.

"Thor! Did you ever love but that you might break the things you love? Your love is destruction. You were always destined to be king. I was made to be your plaything. To dance before your glorious throne, naked of secrets and dignity. To kneel before you in chains when I refuse your honors!

"Did you ever once love me as your equal, brother? Ever once? Answer me. Answer me!"

The ocean had nothing to say.

Loki’s whole body folded in on itself. Over the noise of the waves, you barely heard his whisper. “I wish you had left me to die as an infant. I wish that I were dead.”

"Do you really want to die?" You called to distract him. You worried that he might jump. Or fall.

Loki stared at the deck for long moments. “No,” he finally said, “I just want the pain to end.”

"Maybe we can make it stop for a little while." You spread your arms in invitation.

He lay himself—well, dropped himself, if you were being honest—into your waiting arms. You enfolded his listless form into a gentle, comforting embrace. His lips found yours.

Your heart melted for this broken angel. Time stretched out as the two of you shared soft romantic kisses. And then Loki vomited in your mouth and passed out.

"Never again," you murmured to yourself, as you rinsed out your mouth, checked Loki’s pulse and respiration, and arranged him not to choke on his vomit. "Never, ever again."

Loki woke a few hours later, looking not nearly so hungover as that bender warranted. You restarted the engine. Loki sat up and stared seriously in your eyes.

Finally he spoke, quietly, guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

"For the boat?" You asked. "For vomiting? For stealing my booze?"

"For…" He flapped his hands uselessly. "For burdening you with my weaknesses."

You answered slowly. “I don’t think… I don’t think needing to be loved is a weakness. My Lord Loki”—you rarely used honorifics but sensed the importance here—“our lives are brief, but we humans also know love and grief. You are very like us. Your army is willing to die for you, not because you are sexy or powerful or clever, but because you are vulnerable and hurt and lost. Like us.”

Loki said nothing else, but he looked thoughtful.

 

The police were waiting on the shore. Loki demanded to see the owner of the boat. It was a testament to just how feared Loki was on Earth that this man was procured in short order. Everyone had seen the footage of Loki wrecking police cars with a flick of his hand. These cops had no problem negotiating with terrorists.

"These guardians of your city claim I stole this vessel," he addressed the man, "but that would not be true if I purchased it from you."

"I’d be happy to give it to you, no charge," the man said, looking anything but happy.

"Of course not," Loki scoffed. "Come with me to your institution of finance and I will procure for you the sum you demand."

Your first unpleasant thought was bank robbery. As it turned out, Loki simply presented his card. He gave the pervious owner his due payment and the bank notary and transfer agent marked over the deed. Technically, last night had still been theft, but the police vanished like morning fog.

"Okay, no, seriously?" You asked, on the walk back to the beach. "I have to know. How did you get a bank to issue you a special member platinum card where you just walk into the place and get fifteen grand?

Loki flipped the card around and held it up between two fingers behind his head so you could see it. Underneath the security strip and the unlimited draft marking was embossed the name in bold capital letters: Tony Stark.

"How did you—"

Loki held up a finger to his lips. “There are some things, my dear, you are better not knowing.”

You shrugged. You’d get the secret sooner or later. Now that you had an entire album of blackmail on your phone. Oh, boy. You would be milking this night for a long time.

Epilogue

A few weeks later, Pepper forced Tony’s bank statements in his face, with the discrepancies highlighted in red. Tony traced over the expenses. He really should cancel that card. Soon. If a fond smile for a moment touched over his face, he would deny it to his grave.

He shoved the papers back at her. “Don’t bother me with this crap. My personal accounts don’t have to reconcile, k? That’s what makes them personal. Thank you. Goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus, what Loki was doing on the beach with his doubles:  
> <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB14fxQJ7M0>


End file.
